


Burnt Mandu

by sorrybabyxx



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Domesticity, F/F, KillingEveWeek, i tried to give eve some backstory but the show doesnt give me much to work with, its soft, kind of a v character study, maybe the softest thing i've written for villaneve, post 3x08, talk about family, they make dumplings, watch a movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26317807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrybabyxx/pseuds/sorrybabyxx
Summary: Villanelle and Eve are living together. It’s date night. They try to make dumplings.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108
Collections: Killing Eve Week 2020





	Burnt Mandu

The apartment was already warm when Villanelle unlocked the door. That was something new, and incredibly nice, a little facet of intimacy she’d never experienced before.

Coming home to Eve made her heart sing.

Villanelle was about to round the corner to greet Eve when she heard a voice was playfully remind her, “Shoes.” Eve’s tone was warm in greeting.

Villanelle lent against the walls of the narrow entrance as she fought to get her Chloe boots off. She dropped them on the wooden floor, letting Eve know she had listened. They fell beside Eve’s annoyingly practical business shoes.

Villanelle made a mental note to get on to that. 

She finally rounded the corner to collect her welcome home kiss, another nice and new thing Villanelle didn’t think she would ever get sick off, when she found Eve in the kitchen.

Villanelle froze.

Eve wasn’t just in the kitchen, she was cooking. Ingredients and mess were spread across the large island bench. Eve’s white button up was off, a casualty, it lay over the bar stool with a slash of red wine across the chest.

Eve worked in only her singlet and slacks. There was a generous glass of wine beside her within reach. She looked determined like the mess before her was a crime scene she was going to crack.

Approaching with caution, Villanelle came up behind her. It looked like she was making dumplings.

Eve’s tongue was peeking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. Villanelle settled for kissing her jaw, in greeting.

“You’re cooking?” Villanelle prompted sceptically, resting her head on Eve’s shoulder to observe her hands at work.

Eve dolloped a scoop of seasoned pork mince into the center of a dumpling skin that lay flat in her palm. She dunked her finger in the little bowl of water beside her and drew an invisible line around the edge. Then she folded it in half and pleated the two edges until the dough sealed itself shut. Suddenly in Eve’s palm was a perfectly crafted dumpling.

So far, the two of them had sustained themselves solely on takeout and the occasional dinner date when they could manage to pull themselves from each other’s arms and leave their bed.

“I thought you couldn’t cook,” Villanelle mumbled into Eve’s shoulder.

“They aren’t cooked yet,” Eve was quick to correct her. The frustration on her face didn’t make it to her voice as she welcomed the warmth of Villanelle holding her from behind.

“Right.” Villanelle smiled into her neck.

“How did it go?”

“The movies and wine have been acquired.” Villanelle placed the small bag on top of the mess Eve had made as evidence.

Villanelle rocked into Eve, swaying to non-existent music. Her fingers hooked in Eve’s belt loops and Eve followed her movements. The pattern she was pleating was uninterrupted by Villanelle’s distraction.

“I knew you were good with your hands. But that’s impressive,” Villanelle observed as Eve put another completed dumpling aside.

Eve gave the comment a half laugh before saying, “I worked in a Korean restaurant after you shot me.”

“Really?” Villanelle couldn’t hold back her shocked and amused intake of breath.

She imagined Eve dressed as a caricature of a chef. A big puffy hat holding down her curly hair. A large knife in her hand. Yelling at people.

Okay, that was kind of hot.

Villanelle was sad she’d missed that, if she’d known Eve was alive sooner, she could imagine herself booking a table. Waiting there for Eve to spot her and the empty seat across from her, for six months of distance to dissolve in a moment. She wondered if Eve would have attacked her at her workplace, amoungst her peers and customers the same way she had on the bus.

The more Villanelle indulged in this fantasy the more certain she was Eve would have attacked her; this time maybe armed with a hatchet.

Eve interrupted Villanelle’s fantasy, her mince covered hand gesturing to her glass. “Wine,” she prompted Villanelle more than asked.

Villanelle held it to Eve’s lips for her. Then stole a sip for herself before moving out from behind Eve to put it down.

“Teach me,” she said, coming to stand beside Eve.

When Eve shot Villanelle a sceptical, _are you serious?_ look. Villanelle made a show of rolling up her sleeves and washing her hands.

“Okay. Grab a dumpling skin,”

Eve wasn’t a good teacher. She didn’t have the patience. Thankfully, Villanelle was a quick learner. She watched Eve do a few on her own offering basic instructions. Eve had to fight her muscle memory and slow the action down so Villanelle could follow.

Villanelle’s first solo attempt was overfilled, bursting out of the otherwise nice pleating she’d managed.

She frowned at her creation, the ugly duckling beside Eve’s neat row of mandu.

“Try again. Don’t think with your stomach when you’re putting the filling in,” Eve encouraged.

Villanelle kept that in mind. Her next one closed, at least.

They completed the task in relative silence, aside from Eve catching Villanelle’s mistakes before it ruined the dumpling. Between them they quickly ran out of filling and dumpling skins. They had a tray of kind of uniform mandu by the end.

Villanelle beamed at the results of their joint effort while Eve’s apprehensive energy intensified. Eve’d started ruffling through the cupboards for a pan and cooking oil.

“We don’t have a steamer. So, we’ll have to pan sear them,” Eve said, igniting the burner. Then she paused reassessing the situation, collecting herself. “Okay… I never had to cook them at the restaurant, so this is where we are winging it. Fingers crossed.”

Eve crowded a pan with mandu. They still had half a tray left. They were going to have to do them in batches.

Villanelle kept out of Eve’s way. Eve was clearly feeling out of her element. Villanelle didn’t like to see Eve stressed. “We could have just ordered in. I wouldn’t have bother.”

“I thought it might be nice to do something special even though it’s just the two of us,” Eve shrugged.

“It is,” Villanelle assured her.

It really was.

To be cared for was so strange and wonderful. Villanelle was used to being showered in things, but they were purely transactional. All meant to earn her trust and to get her to behave.

To be given anything by Eve without it being prompted was better than all the luxuries her prior life had offered. The buzz was different. It lasted. It was meaningful.

Eve saw the shift in Villanelle’s eyes, a softness over coming them before Eve closed the distance to press their lips together. She couldn’t resist. Eve wasn’t much of a wine snob, but she’d found Villanelle’s lips were always the perfect pairing.

Eve tasted like red wine. It made her lips more intoxicating, addictive. One of Villanelle’s hands took its favourite place in Eve’s hair, her other trailed down the line of Eve’s body. Under that very thin singlet, Eve wasn’t wearing a bra. Villanelle couldn’t help herself; she ran a thumb over a hard nipple and drank in the moan that left Eve’s lips.

It made her head spin. Villanelle wanted to lay Eve back and devour her.

They were engrossed with one another, just short of shedding their clothes when the smell reached them, acrid and smoky as the char on the mandu rapidly turned to charcoal.

“Shit.” Eve turned away from Villanelle, her attention shifting back to the dumplings. She had to scrap them from the bottom, before flipped turning them. They looked chequered, one side was such a harsh white and the other was a deep black.

Villanelle’s lips were pulled into a smile as she lent into Eve, who held a hand up, stopping her.

“No making out while there is an open flame.”

Thoroughly disappointed Villanelle mumbled, “Yes, chef.”

Villanelle laid out the table while Eve salvaged the dumplings and finished searing the second batch.

They were crispy at least when they hit the table. Eve took her seat, and a big sip of the new glass of wine waiting for her.

Eve dug in first, the texture of the blackened dumpling skin was strange. It was overdone in spots and underdone in other. She swiped it in soy sauce, that helped. It wasn’t bad. But it wasn’t close to the restaurant or her mother’s mandu.

Eve looked up to get Villanelle’s verdict only to find her trying to steady her chopsticks with both hands. She had about as much grace as a claw machine. When she managed to secure a dumpling, it fell from her loose grip before it could reach her mouth.

Eve laughed at her. “Let me get this straight. You can slash a man’s femoral artery while passing him on a crowded street, but you can’t use chopsticks?”

“Shut up.” Villanelle’s long fingers poised to grapple with the two sticks again.

Watching her struggle made Eve think of a baby giraffe stumbling to take its first steps.

Eve stifled her laughter. “You can just use a fork.”

“I’m not a quitter.” Villanelle sounded offended.

She did manage to get one in her mouth, but it required all concentration and she had to jut her head out to meet the captured dumpling halfway.

“How does it taste?” Eve asked, watching Villanelle chew on the burnt mandu cautiously.

“Like vindication,” Villanelle said around the mouthful.

Eve rolled her eyes but didn’t hide her smile.

Eve noticed Villanelle steered clear of the burnt ones when selecting her second dumpling. She was trying to get her chopsticks to pinch it when she said, “I’ve never been to Korea. We should go. It’d be nice to travel for the sake of traveling.”

“Rather than to kill people?” Eve asked then easily picking up the dumpling Villanelle had been grappling with before offering it to her.

“Or to chase an assassin,” Villanelle pointed out leaning in to take the dumpling between her teeth.

Eve hummed in agreement, selecting another for herself. “It would be fun to see you out of your depth.”

Villanelle snorted, holding up the chopsticks in her awkward grip. “I’ll have these, and the language mastered by the time we go. I’m not going to let you embarrass me.”

“Maybe one day you could show me Russia,” Eve suggested.

“I’m never going back there.” Villanelle’s words were clipped.

Eve knew Villanelle wasn’t fond of Russia but the flash of pain in her eyes at the mention of it was raw. New.

Eve left it alone. Kind of. Opting to press around it instead. “You don’t talk about your family much.”

“You don’t talk about yours,” Villanelle countered.

“Touché.” Eve considered letting it slide then said, “I used to make mandu with my mum and aunt when I was little. My mum is still around. But after my dad died it felt like my family was gone, you know. The glue was gone.”

Villanelle’s eyes awakened at the prospect of knowing more about Eve, she couldn’t help but ask, “She lives in London?”

Eve nodded.

“If I was just a girl you were seeing, not an ex-assassin. You still wouldn’t introduce us, would you?” Villanelle didn’t sound to upset by the fact. It was something she had already presumed.

“Probably not,” Eve said, but it sounded more like ‘definitely not’.

“Is it a bi thing?” Villanelle could understand that. She hadn’t ever cared but she’d felt the weight of people in her life trying to get her to quieten that part of herself. She was from Russia after all.

Eve chewed her cheek, regretting that she’d opened this door. Then finally, she shook her head and clarified. “It’s not that. Niko and I didn’t see her much, either. She didn’t like him.”

“I think we could get along. Not a fan of the moustache?”

“It was ‘cause he didn’t want kids.”

“But you don’t want kids,” Villanelle was quick to say.

“But I never told her that.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know how to tell her, so I just let her believe it was Niko’s choice.”

Villanelle saw the shame leaking onto Eve’s face and reached out to take her hand. She gave it a squeeze. “I’d let you blame us not having kids on me.”

“Thanks.” Eve couldn’t tell if Villanelle was teasing her or earnest, either way it helped. She squeezed her hand back. “What would your family have thought of me?”

Villanelle’s face twitched a little but after a heavy swallow she followed Eve’s example, opening up a little. “I think my dad would have liked you. I think my mum would have hated you. And that would have made me love you even more.”

Eve welcomed the silenced that followed.

Villanelle looked away, suddenly finding the crumbs of mincemeat and spattered soy sauce on her plate interesting. “I went to see them.”

That surprised Eve. She wasn’t aware Villanelle had a family to _see._ “There wasn’t much on your file about them.”

Villanelle nodded. “I thought they were dead. But then, there they were living a whole life without me. My mum had remarried.” Eve could feel the void of the things Villanelle didn’t say when she paused. She snatched a dumpling, it made it to her mouth this time and said dismissively, “I like my brothers. That’s about it.”

“You have brothers?”

“Three. We only like two.”

“Noted.”

Villanelle brighter and asked, “How do you feel about Elton John?”

“He’s an icon.”

“I think they would like you. A lot.” Villanelle smiled; it was temporary. It was easier to talk about her family with Eve, but it still wasn’t easy.

For a moment she wondered where Bor’ka and Pyotr were. If Bor’ka ever made it to see Elton. Her thoughts inevitably bought her back to that night. And she saw her mother’s face again. Apathetic. Cold. Impatient.

Villanelle couldn’t look at her while she did it. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her though, that look of impatience, the look that said Villanelle wasn’t good enough. It didn’t leave her eyes even after she died. Instead it was immortalised in her still expression.

The need to destroy it all was immediate. Villanelle looked at the body as her feet, she knew she had to burn it all. Every whisper of her mother and Oksana’s lives if she wanted to be free. She spared Bor’ka and Pyotr.

But the more she destroyed the worse it got. The wider the pit inside grew.

“What is it Villanelle?” Eve touched her hand and Villanelle realised she was crying.

“They had a home and there wasn’t room for me in it.” Villanelle got the words out through pursed lips.

“Hey,” Eve said, the words dolloped with the same understanding and acceptance from the dance floor. Her eyes didn’t waver when Villanelle finally had the strength to meet them.

“You can tell me,” Eve assured her.

Villanelle believed her.

“I killed my mother,” the words burst from her, finally free. “And it wasn’t like all the rest. Eve, it took a part of me.”

Eve’s expression didn’t change. She wiped a tear away and let Villanelle cry. She didn’t need Eve to say anything. Villanelle needed a safe place to feel it. To feel what she had done.

The origin of this shift in Villanelle had finally been named. The source of this new vulnerability.

Before she’d taken a life, Eve had always imagined killing as an act that took apart of oneself. Now, with two kills under her belt. She knew that wasn’t true, at least not all the time.

Killing a stranger was different than killing the thing that bought you into the world.

There is a difference between burning down a house and burning down your own home. No matter what you leave things inside and you don’t realise until they go up in smoke along with all the rotted wood.

Villanelle was still sniffling, but her cheeks were dry when she asked, “Can we watch a movie now?”

Eve pulled her hand away and said, “Of course. You can pick.”

That brightened Villanelle’s mood. Eve got into her cotton pajamas while Villanelle got into a silk button up ensemble more suited for a runway than bed. Even as Eve was beginning into appreciate Villanelle’s taste in the finer things, pajamas more expensive than the rent of this apartment was something Eve didn’t think she could ever stomach.

Villanelle managed to beat Eve to the couch, she lay on her side stretching across the length of it, the screen was paused on the menu for _Pride._

“You haven’t seen this?” Eve asked in disbelief as she lay with Villanelle, her back flush with her front. Eve could vaguely remember watching it with Niko at some point.

Eve felt Villanelle shake her head against her neck. “Been meaning to. I was in prison the year it came out.”

Eve kept the surprise from her face. Not that Villanelle could see it. The fact Villanelle had actually spent a stretch of her life in prison always slipped Eve’s mind. She couldn’t imagine anyone containing Villanelle, especially against her will.

“We’ve got plenty of time to catch up,” Eve said as Villanelle reached around her to press play. She kept her arm over Eve, pulling their bodies flush.

Villanelle sank into Eve. She could hardly see the screen as she let Eve’s hair fill her vision.

_We._

Eve had been saying that a lot since the bridge, along with other magical words like together and us.

Villanelle didn’t think she would ever get used to that; it earned such a visceral reaction from her. That Eve thought about them that way, saw them watching movies like this many nights to come, that they would be traveling together, that they would _be_ together.

The day they walked back to each other on the bridge Villanelle knew she wouldn’t have the strength to leave Eve again.

Villanelle was sick of reunions, sick of goodbyes. She just wanted to stay with Eve, wherever that was.

The movie must’ve been ten minutes in, and Villanelle had spent it watching Eve, trying to comprehend how she had this gorgeous woman in her arms. A woman who cooked her dinner just to make their night special. A woman who hadn’t even flinched when Villanelle admitted what she’d done to her mother.

She pressed a kiss to Eve’s exposed neck. Then another.

Eve sighed and lent back against her. Her voice was soft as she said, “I thought you wanted to watch a movie.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so distracting,” Villanelle said between kisses.

Eve shifted in Villanelle’s arms, so she was on her back, their bodies angling together. She pulled their lips together.

This kiss carried something else. It was the kind of kiss that normally tipped them both over the edge. It signaled that Eve wanted more.

Despite herself, Villanelle pulled back a fraction, just enough to free her lips to ask. “Are you happy, Eve?”

“Of course.” It was a pant. Eve wanted to keep kissing. Then she pulled away from Villanelle to read her face, there was an intensity to those green eyes, “Aren’t you?”

Villanelle had always thought there was a formula to her happiness. That a collection of four things would plug the void inside of her.

When Eve had asked Villanelle what she wanted in Paris this was the list Villanelle offered her. Four things that should make her happy.

_Nice life, cool flat, fun job. Someone to watch movies with._

She knew she didn’t feel like other people did but surely that would do it. That would make her happy.

As she met Eve’s wide eyes, waiting for her answer Villanelle realised how wrong she’d been.

Right now, she had no job. They had a flat, but Villanelle wouldn’t offer it the compliment of calling it cool. But her life was perfect.

She didn’t just have _someone_ to watch movies with she had _Eve_.

And she was the happiest she’d ever been.

When she woke up these days, she was greeted with a soft peck from Eve that left her dizzy and wanting more, instead of the boredom she’d been accompanied by her whole life. Villanelle didn’t think there was a place for the nothingness that used to consume her days with Eve around. She was too full of love, of warmth.

Her list of wants had changed.

She didn’t need a cool flat. She had a home. A place where her shoes were kicked off at the front door beside Eve’s.

Eve traced Villanelle’s lips, still waiting for an answer.

Villanelle stole a kiss then said, “More than happy. You’re my home.”

**Author's Note:**

> I think that is me done for KE week. If you've read this or anything else I've written or anything anyone else has written for this week thank you. It's been a fun week. I look forward to properly reading what other people wrote now I'm not writing so much. 
> 
> This one is a little rough than my others. But it's a little late so I tried to get it done. I originally planned for this to be a scene from one of my on going fics but I'm far from them being this happy and wanted to write some fluff. 
> 
> I hope you like it. xx 
> 
> My KE accounts  
> [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/we_r_colleagues)  
> [ Tumblr](https://we-are-colleagues.tumblr.com/)


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